


Hitters Make the Worst Patients

by musingmidge77



Category: Leverage
Genre: Episode like violence, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingmidge77/pseuds/musingmidge77
Summary: There's a saying that doctors make the worst patients. The team at Leverage Consulting is pretty sure that title belongs to hitters. Their's in particular.





	Hitters Make the Worst Patients

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IndigoNight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoNight/gifts).



> Hope IndigoNight enjoys this little story of mine. Special thanks to Valawenel and Maddie_Meraki for being my betas.

Hitters Make the Worst Patients

 

Everything went to plan getting the load of cars to take to the dock. Should have been straightforward. Give Penzer Auto a load of stolen cars for him to clone and try to resell.

He didn’t know where things went wrong, but he knew he needed a getaway. He threw the keys to the load of cars into the air and ran. Early. Penzer’s men showed up early. It seemed impossible to have one job that didn’t get derailed.

Lucky and his men continued to fire as Eliot ran for the shipping containers. 

Keeping the containers to his left, he looked for a place to take cover. Bullets whizzed by his head and pinged much too close for comfort.

His momentum propelled him past the end of the container, but he slowed his footsteps and pressed his back to the steel. The men were closing in on him. The gunshots sounded closer with each second.

 _Can't go back, Spencer._ The edge of the dock loomed just ahead; the water below that. Only one option. Make a run for the dock. He had always been a strong swimmer. A glance back proved the men weren’t going to give up easily. One on six normally wouldn’t worry Eliot. But he was pinned down and he couldn’t take down all six gunmen without getting hit.

 _Now or never._ Eliot pushed himself away from the container and sprinted toward the water. The sounds of gunfire rang loud in his ears. Maybe that was why he didn't hear the car.

The world turned upside down. Pain bloomed in his shoulder and head as he hit the windshield, tumbled from the hood, and splashed into the water.

.

.

.

A fight after a swim in the harbor wasn’t his best idea. He hurt all over and a concussion headache loomed on the horizon.

Before he could go downstairs he needed to clean his various cuts and change into dry clothes. No sense being wet, cold, and in pain.

A quick dose of acetaminophen later and he joined the team at a table downstairs.

Nate, Hardison and the girls enjoyed their meal while Eliot nursed his beer. The throbbing in his head made food a bad idea. 

He and Nate had engaged in light-hearted banter about his car. That didn’t make him feel better. A car had run headlong into Eliot after all. No way was he going to admit the car blindsided him, resulting in his head playing a game of chicken with the windshield. As he tumbled from the hood and into the water, he was sure the car had won that round.

Eliot tried to ignore the dizziness that assaulted him when he stood. _Damn head injuries._ He realized the team was watching him when his muddled mind registered the silence in the room.

He consciously held his shoulder still. "What?" Maybe if he injected his customary growl, they would stop staring at him.

"Nothing, man." Hardison's eyes shifted from Nate to Eliot. "Nate was just asking if you were calling it a night."

"Yeah. I'm callin' it a night." The irritation built as the team continued to watch him. "A man doesn't have to sit around and talk about it all night, does he?"

Nate leaned back in his chair with that damnable smug look that made you think he was watching the wheels of your mind turn. _Creepy, Parker would call it._ "Kinda early, isn’t it, Eliot? You didn't even join in our meal."

Damn. _There's the eyebrow quirk_. Sophie's eyes bored into his skull which he swore made his headache worse. _Better get out fast, Spencer. Unless you want to be here all night talking over your feelings with Sophie._

"I'm heading home. Is that a problem? I know I only got shot at, hit by a car, thrown in the river," he pointed at Parker. "Survived a car ride with the speed demon here and still got you and Sophie out. I guess since the car didn’t break any bones, she thought she’d try by bouncing me around the backseat. Excuse me for wanting to unwind."

"Here we go with the hit by a car thing again." Parker's perturbed look would have been comical if he didn’t have a jackhammer drilling behind his eyes. 

"You ever been hit by a car, Parker? Huh? No?" She appeared unaffected by his growl and that pissed him off even more.

He grabbed his jacket on the way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Nate's voice hinted at curiosity.

 _Home._ " He slammed the door to McRory's behind him and put on his jacket. He wanted to go home and take care of this headache. A sharp pain reminded him of his nearly dislocated shoulder. The jangling noise of his keys grated on his nerves as he dug them out of his pocket and headed toward his car. Metal gouged his palm as he tightened his grip to stop the tinny sound.

He paused with his hand on the door handle, thinking about the drive home. The shifting earth under his feet didn't give him confidence.

Dropping his hand to his side again, he decided walking was the best plan of action. The night air would be just the thing he needed to clear the fog from his brain. He walked to the back of the building, intent on walking to his own apartment.

He’d feel better tomorrow.

.

.

.

Eliot shoved open the door to his apartment and set the alarm behind him.

He'd love nothing more than to go to bed and forget Penzer Auto, boosting cars, and even the team for a few hours.

His nose hurt. Knives pierced through every inch of his head and he swore he felt the bruises forming on his shins from the car bumper.

He dropped his jacket and over shirt on the leather couch and headed for the kitchen. The fridge held his usual beer, but with a head injury, he opted for a bottle of water. The peal of his cell phone broke the silence. With a weary sigh he settled himself on the barstool and dug the screaming thing out of his pocket.

"What do you want, Hardison?"

_"Just checking in, man. You left pretty quick."_

Eliot pinched the bridge of his nose. _My head is gonna explode._ "I thought hit by a car was self-explanatory." He felt sure he was masking any pain in his voice well enough to fool the hacker. At least it hadn't been Sophie that called.

_"Parker was upset. Thought you might wanna-"_

"All I _want_ to do, Hardison, is take a couple days off and try to forget about that damn near fatal ride with Parker." Eliot heard a rustling in the background and other voices whispering to Hardison. _The damn team is feeding him lines._ The British accent sounded quiet, but it was there. _Shit._

"Tell the team I'm fine. I don't need motherin'." _Thank you very much, Sophie._ "What I _need_ is for people to leave me alone so I can relax."

_"But, Eliot-_

 He disconnected the call without feeling the least bit guilty. 

After he finished his bottled water he forced his limping, bruised legs to propel him to the bathroom. He felt sure he could stay awake long enough to take care of his various pains.

The light bathed the bathroom in a too bright glow. He squinted at his reflection, and frowned at the cut in his right eyebrow. His left shoulder already had red splotches appearing that would become a kaleidoscope of colors in a few days.

He peeled off his shirt and jeans as he stumbled for the bed.

A miscalculated step banged his shin into the armchair in his room. "Fuck!" _That will be a fantastic shade of dammit tomorrow._

He skipped a night spent reading in his overstuffed chair. He set an alarm to wake him every two hours, and collapsed into bed. 

.

.

.

A high-pitched ringing joined the marching band inside Eliot's skull. With a groan, he opened his eyes. He slammed them shut against the daggers streaming through the slats in the blinds. "Damn."

He opened one eye to squint at his alarm clock. He still liked his digital clock despite Hardison making fun of him. Eliot didn’t want to use a phone as an alarm. The phone was invented to make phone calls. And whatever geeky things Hardison did with them. 

The phone stopped ringing only to start again after a few seconds pause. He indulged himself with a groan and snatched it. "'Lo?" Nothing. _Oh yeah._ His fumbling fingers swiped the screen, and he tried again. "What?"

_"Dammit, Eliot! I started to jump in the car with Parker to check on you. With Parker. That's how serious this is. Made me think your brain had gone to mush. What's the matter with you?"_

Hardison. Again. "For fuck sake, Hardison."

_"Don't you whine at me. Nate needs you. Got a client."_

Eliot blew out a breath and counted to ten. Then fifteen. "I don't _whine._ And what part of take a couple days off is he having trouble with?"

 _"Sure sounds whiny. You know how he is. Get your lazy ass outta bed and get to the bar. It's 9 AM. Really, man."_ The line went silent when the hacker hung up on him.

"Paying me back for hanging up last night, huh? Now who's being whi-" He bolted up in bed, and regretted it when his head did a couple laps. _9 AM?_ "I never sleep..."

Scratch that thought. His churning stomach forced him up and to the toilet.

His skin looked pale except for the mottled bruising over his right eye. Minty mouthwash made quick work of the tang of acid left in his mouth.

A bout of dizziness forced him to sit to put on his jeans. Today would be a long day.

The headache annoyed him but, the ringing in his ears had turned into constant background noise.

Food didn’t sound like a good idea. Coffee sounded good though. He fumbled through the cabinets. “Shit.” Ground coffee spilled across the counter and onto the floor.

“Great. Perfect start to what’s gonna be a wonderful day.”

After sweeping up the mess, he didn’t have the energy—or the coffee—to try again. He checked the clock and decided that he didn’t have time, anyway. Not since Nate had _another_ damn job so soon.

.

.

.

Eliot stopped at the coffee shop on his way to the bar. He liked this place. Good coffee. The barista that opened the store didn't hurt matters.

She caught sight of him and smiled. "Hi. How ya doin?"

"Fine. How are you, Chloe?" Maybe flirting with a pretty girl would lift his spirits.

"Good. Great. Thanks again for helping with John. Haven't heard from him since you talked to him for me."

"You're welcome. Wasn't hard to get him to see reason." What he didn't tell her was how he took care of the problem.

"Thanks all the same." She busied herself behind the counter to hide her blushing face. "Have the usual?"

Eliot rubbed the back of his neck, hoping to banish the headache that still lingered.

"Eliot? You okay?"

"Huh?" He realized he had zoned out of their conversation.

Her forehead crinkled in confusion. "Are you okay? You spaced out for a second."

Eliot chuckled. Hoped for a distraction. "I'm fine. Just thinking about work I suppose. I'll have the usual."

"You don't look so good. You look pale. Except for the bruises." Her eyes widened. "Is that blood?"

He touched his fingertips to the cut on his head. "Dammit."

Chloe charged around the counter and grasped his arm. "You...do you need to sit? Is that why you're so pale? What happened?" He couldn't have gotten a word in with a crowbar.

Her voice only intensified the jackhammer behind his eyes. "Jus'...you got a first aid kit, right?"

Chloe ushered him to the break room attracting no customers’ or staff members’ attention. "What happened to you? I've seen you with bruises before but this..." She brushed the hair back from his forehead. "And bleeding."

He dug through the first aid kit for the supplies he would need to stop the sluggish bleeding on his forehead. "It's nothing. I'm not dying." He tried not to grumble and failed.

"Have you seen a doctor? I can take you. If I can get someone to cover my shift."

"I can handle it. Thank you," he said through gritted teeth. "Get to work before the boss catches you." He smiled and hoped it made up for his sullen mood.

For a heart stopping thirty seconds, he thought she would drag him to the hospital. An eyebrow raised in his direction. "Fine. If you can handle it. But if you get worse..."

"I'll get help. Cross my heart." For good measure, he threw her wink.

He felt pleased with himself as he watched her head to the front.

He locked himself in the employee bathroom just off the break room. Eliot frowned in concentration while he cleaned the cut. He studied his reflection in the mirror. _No wonder Chloe was worried._

He looked like shit. The team wouldn’t leave that alone. The first aid kit wasn't as well stocked as his, but he found a decent bandage to cover his split brow.

His phone rang while he cleaned up his mess and caused him to spill the contents of the kit in the sink.

"Son of a-" He answered the call without checking who was calling. "What?"

_"What kind of phone etiquette is that? I expect that from Parker. But you..."_

He blew out a long, steadying breath. "Sophie. What is it?"

_"Everyone is here for the briefing and Nate needs you here."_

"On my way. Just stopped for coffee." He watched the muscle in his jaw jump as he clenched his teeth.

Silence met him from across the void. Then, _"Are you alright? You sound strange."_

The grifter smelled blood in the water. So to speak. "Yeah, fine. Gotta go, Soph. My coffee is ready. Be there soon." He ignored the rambling in the background and ended the call.

.

.

.

Eliot Spencer never thought his first reaction, when he heard what Nate said, would be: 'I think I might actually enjoy that.'' He usually wouldn't go for the idea of working in a white-collar workplace.

This newest job involved working in a pharmacy. Everyone knew he had a little knowledge of drugs. Well, just certain stimulants. And sedatives. Anyway, the chance to learn something new could be useful.

"Okay, Eliot, we have you in place as a pharmacy technician. The paperwork will hold up if anyone asks," Nate said.

" _I_ have Eliot in place. _I_ took care of the paperwork," Hardison muttered under his breath. "Thanks, Hardison. Nice job."

Parker and Sophie giggled while Nate ignored the hacker.

"What's the deal with this pharmacy?" Eliot picked up a picture of the mom and pop business and studied it.

Hardison grumbled under his breath as he pulled up the information on the screens. "Get no respect I tell ya." He shook his head. "This is Reeves Pharmacy. Nice, family owned place. Loyal customers, down home atmosphere. Owned by Tim and Nancy Reeves. Things have started to go missing."

Eliot narrowed his eyes to block some of the light from the screens. "Things like what, exactly?"

"Merchandise at first. Over-the-counter items on the shelves mainly-"

"Until last week," Nate said. "Last week there was a break-in after closing. A large quantity of controlled medications was taken."

Hardison's eyes narrowed in anger. "The kicker is that the police are investigating the owners." He held up a stock bottle of Oxycodone. "This label has the store's name and address. It can't be tampered with and can't be peeled off. It's supposed to be a theft deterrent."

"Not so much." Parker gave them a grin that made the skin at her eyes crinkle.

The team paused, and turned in her direction.

"What? It didn't work." She pulled her feet up onto the couch and hugged her knees. "Still got stolen."

Eliot tapped a pen on the worktable. “Video surveillance?”

A head shake answered Eliot’s question. “No such luck. Storing hours of digital footage can get expensive. It’s not uncommon for business owners to delete data to make way for new. Power to the store was cut the night of the robbery.”

“No battery backup?” Eliot was grasping at straws. Small business owners could seldom afford high end security systems. And cut power sounded like someone knew what they were doing.

The hacker raised his eyebrows. “And what do we have for our winner?”

"Okay. So, the label is tamper resistant. Let me guess, some bottles were planted. Maybe in a car? Inside the owners' home? Or better yet...a gym bag hidden in the garage? Behind paint cans in the corner _...what_?"

The team turned to stare at Eliot.

"What? What're you lookin’ at?" He knew crossing his arms showed defensiveness, but he did it anyway. It had become a habit by now.

Hardison shook his head. "Sometimes you are one scary dude. That's where they were found. Corner of the garage, behind paint cans from a recent remodel. How the hell did you know that?"

"Home improvement and repair is a multi-billion dollar business in the United States. Odds are good that a middle-class family like that has done renovations to their home. Hence the paint cans in an unused corner of the garage. People think no one would ever look there. People in certain... _businesses_ know that's the first place they'd check. Take advantage of that."

Hardison's eyes widened briefly before narrowing to slits. He pointed his remote at Eliot. "When I buy a house, you stay the hell away from my garage. You hear me?"

.

.

.

Sophie watched the exchange between the hitter and hacker. Their back and forth was usually livelier, but Eliot gave in quicker this time. He shook his head and leaned back against the sofa.

Something seemed off about the way Eliot crossed his arms. He appeared slow, stiff.

More than once she had caught him either rubbing his temple or pinching the bridge of his nose like someone with a headache.

Eliot was hiding something. Something that involved Penzer Auto. He avoided being in a room alone with her. He knew all it would take from her would be a touch to her head, a pat on his arm; he would tell her all his secrets.

"Don't you think, Sophie?" Damn. She had missed everything Nate had said.

"Sorry?" She hoped she didn't sound as nervous to everyone as she did to herself.

"Spencer Reed. Eliot's alias? First name easy to remember to answer to." A quirk of his brow conveyed his message. He knew Eliot wasn't acting right.

She bit her lower lip to keep from smiling at the expression on the hitter's face. "Sounds like a perfect name."

"Hey! You know what? I ain't dumb alright?" He surged to his feet. "This ain't my first..." A fast-moving hacker grabbing his left arm was the only thing that kept Eliot on his feet. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a couple deep breaths. "Rodeo," he slurred.

"Are you okay?" Sophie moved forward to help Hardison.

Eliot wrenched his arm out of the hacker's grasp and flinched. "I'm fine."

"You don't look-" concern covered Nate's face.

"I said I'm _fine._ I don't need you guys hovering over me. I'm the hitter. The muscle. I get it. At least I'll be able to remember my damn alias."

He stalked across the room and slammed the door in his wake.

Parker blew out a long sigh. "He sure is grumpy."

"He isn't feeling well, Parker," Sophie said. 

"Really? Did I miss something?" Parker raised an eyebrow at her. "I mean...he's always grumpy."

Hardison shook his head. "Not like this."

Nate rolled his eyes. "Something you would like to share with the class?"

He shrugged. "It may be nothing."

Sophie placed a light touch on the hacker's arm. "If you think something is off about Eliot, we need to know. He won't tell us if something is wrong."

Hardison's eyes shifted from Sophie's gaze to Nate's. "Well, Chloe called this morning. Said he stopped by for coffee. She said he was acting strange. Rubbing his neck like he had a headache. He zoned out while they were talking. And you _know_ how weird that is. Eliot spacing out while he's flirting...that's serious."

Nate's face remained unreadable. "Right. Well, you have work to do, Hardison. I want backgrounds and financials on all of Reeves' employees. We're moving in two days from now. Let's go steal a pharmacy."

Parker's brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought that's what we were trying to stop."

The mastermind remained in stunned silence as Hardison hid his laughter behind his hand.

Nate shook his head and left the room.

"What? That's the problem, right?"

Sophie stared at the door and tried not to worry about their hitter. "Yes, Parker, that's the problem."

.

.

.

While Nate had gone off to work on his plans, Sophie followed their hitter down to the backroom of the bar.

She gave her eyes time to adjust to the darkness and saw Eliot sitting at the poker table with his head down.

"I'm fine, Sophie," he said, voice muffled.

It was no surprise he knew who entered without looking. He no doubt would say something about her having a _very distinctive walk._

"You don't seem fine. The job with Penzer was hard on you. A new job so soon. I want to make sure you're ready."

Eliot leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell Nate not to worry. I'll be ready to go in two days."

"Nate didn't send me here." She forced herself to keep her body language open to counteract his defensiveness. "Chloe called this morning."

His gaze dropped to the floor. "Oh." He leaned on his elbows and studied his hands as they lay on the table. "I think she overreacted this morning."

"How do you know what it was about?"

She never had a problem reading Eliot's emotions. His eyes betrayed him. This time was no different. He was caught, and he knew it.

His shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug. "Brought you down here. I figure she must've made something out of nothing."

"It's not nothing." She covered his hand with hers. "Your job is dangerous when you're at your best."

He yanked his hand back, staggered to his feet, and flinched as the chair scooted across the floor. "I'll be fine in two days. Don't worry about the job."

She couldn't hold back the sigh as she watched him exit through the backdoor. "Stubborn idiot."

.

.

.

The door clicked shut behind Eliot and he shoved shaky hands in his jacket pockets. Hiding this would be difficult.

The ringing, buzzing noise in his right ear was plenty enough to make being an effective hitter damn near impossible.

He stepped onto the sidewalk and turned toward home.

Noise from passing cars sounded like they drove underwater. At first, he hoped the problem would be nothing more than swimmer’s ear. But now, he couldn’t be sure.

Sophie might be right. Everyone knew the dangers of concussions. If he had an inner ear issue that was permanent... he didn’t want to think about how it affected the team.

Eliot stopped and peered at his reflection in a storefront window. The bruise at his hairline stood out against pale skin. He looked tired.

Eliot headed home and bumped a woman that passed him. The sudden appearance startled him. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

The woman smiled and walked away.

“Didn’t hear you.” He covered his ears, one at a time. Everything sounded clearer to his left ear. _Shit._

There was only one way to keep his team–friends—safe.

His hope rested on one phone call. “Hello. Beth? It’s Eliot.”

.

.

.

Eliot waited in the doctor’s office for news. Frames on the wall held licenses and certificates of recognition that eased plenty of patients' minds.

Dr. Elizabeth Pratt was one of the best doctors he had ever met. One that he trusted to do what was best _and_ keep it a secret. Important things in a hitter’s life.

he door opened and Eliot pushed himself to his feet. The doctor closed the door and offered him a seat. He turned and stumbled. Dr. Pratt grasped his elbow to steady him. “Always the gentleman.”

Eliot glanced at the smirk on the doctor’s face. “Momma tried. So, what’s the verdict, Beth?” He had dropped the formalities a long time ago.

Beth sat behind the desk and opened a file. “First, you might visit when you don't need stitches.” She peered at him over dark framed glasses.

Heat rushed to his cheeks. “You know how life is.”

The doctor sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Yes, I understand. I’ve known for years now. Just thought maybe having a team would help you get to a point of… taking care of yourself.”

“Beth—”

She held up both hands in defeat. “I don’t need an education detailing the life span of retrieval specialists and hitters again, Eliot.”

“No offense, but can we just cut to the results?”

“It wasn’t easy getting an audiologist in here after hours.” The eyebrow quirked again, reminding him of Nate’s damn smug. “Eliot? Are you listening?”

“Sorry. Zoned out for a second. What did you guys find?”

She tapped a pen on the file and pinned him with a stern expression. “There is marginal hearing loss in the right ear. Not a big percentage but-“

“Enough,” Eliot said. A second of lost concentration or missing a light footfall; either spelled doom.

A slight nod provided his answer.

“I don’t know what happened.”

“A concussion? Don’t think that is a problem?”

He tried to shrug off the idea. “Had my bell rung plenty of times.”

“It’s not just a matter of getting your _bell rung_.” Beth tossed the pen on the desk. “It’s how many times. How many concussions?”

“Well—”

“How many times have you done what I–and countless other doctors—have said? Give yourself time to heal after an injury. Or better still, avoid situations that lead to injury.” She crossed her arms. Anger mixed with fear flashed in dark eyes as she leaned across the desk, holding eye contact. “Not many, I’d wager.”

“I can’t…”

The chair creaked as he fidgeted. "Is this temporary?" Truth was, he feared her answer. If this became permanent, how could he continue to do the job?

She looked defeated and sighed. "I can't promise you that."

Eliot squeezed her fingers and stood to leave. "Thank you, Beth. I owe you one."

"I’m sure you're on a job now. That’s why you’re here." A sad smile crossed her face. "Make sure I'm able to collect on that debt."

He nodded and closed the door behind him.

Once alone in the hall, he fished the com out of a jacket pocket and put the device in his right ear. Hardison's voice accosted him even if it sounded muffled.

“What now? Another meeting?

“ _Excuse me? You’re the one that went off coms!_ ”

Eliot couldn’t help but chuckle as he opened the door to the street. “I'm off duty, Hardison. I realize the geekiness takes no breaks but…” The traffic and people passing made it harder to hear, so he switched the com to his left ear.

The hacker's elevated voice blasted his ear. “ _Off duty. Yeah. Middle of a job, you got something going on that you won’t talk about. Sure, we'll just not check on team members now I suppose._ ”

“Listen, Hardison, I gotta go. I’ll see y’all tomorrow. I’m signing off now. Is that okay?” He switched off the com before the hacker could answer.

.

.

.

Eliot had tried not to think about what Beth told him last night. He could just switch ears with the com. Use it in his good left ear. But, what if his hearing got worse?  

If a bout of louder ringing hit while he kept watch for Parker while she broke into a safe. Or Hardison while sending a virus to a computer…if he didn’t hear the approach of guards. 

He shook his head and shuffled his grocery bag into his other hand. He let himself into. It was early but he didn’t have anything else to do. He knew the team would meet early to go over last-minute plans before the start of the job tomorrow.  

The choice of his alias still pissed him off. Spencer Reed? Did the team really think he was so dumb he couldn't keep up with his alias? When had he  _ever_ had that problem?  

Eliot squinted against the bright light of the open refrigerator as he pulled out what he needed for breakfast. The tub of butter pinged across the bare shelves and his brows drew together in a scowl.  

 _Can't trust Nate to buy any decent food._  

He arranged the ingredients from the bag on the counter and started a pot of coffee. Omelets sounded like a good pre-briefing breakfast.  

Nate was still upstairs and the others hadn't arrived yet, so at least making breakfast wouldn't be the usual fight with Parker to serve nothing but sugary cereal. Or donuts. How she stayed in shape to be a top-class thief escaped him.  

Within minutes, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the apartment. Mornings like these calmed Eliot in a way the team didn't understand. He could have cooked at home and enjoyed some peace, but he knew the others wouldn't have a decent breakfast without him.  _Damned idiots._   

Parker would have her usual fare of sugar in a bowl. Hardison his gummy frogs and orange soda that he swore were the forgotten food groups.  

At least Sophie had enough sense to pick up a healthy breakfast in town before coming over.  

And the mastermind could power through any briefing or job with nothing more than a cup of coffee. No doubt spiked with whiskey.  

After beating the eggs, he decided cubed ham would be a good addition.  

The fridge light assaulted him again when he stooped to check the drawers in the bottom.  _Surely there's something in here. Maybe some bacon. I could--_  

"Whatcha cooking, Eliot?" 

He banged his head, rattling the shelves. "Dammit! Parker, what are you doin' sneaking around?" 

"Are we going to have donuts? With sprinkles? Wait, did I just scare you?" 

He rubbed his temple as the headache from before fought to the surface again. "Just drop it." 

Parker sidestepped to clear the way to the stove. "Didn't you hear me come in?" 

The cubed ham and cheese covered one side of the egg mixture, and with a flick of his wrist, he folded it over, plated it, and handed the plate to Parker. "Must be new shoes," he joked.  

People thought the thief lived in her own world, oblivious to the workings of this one. In some ways, they were right. But her mind was sharp and she didn't miss much.  

"Not new shoes. You always hear me come in. Even when I'm being super sneaky." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You got a headache?" 

"It's nothing." He went back to the stove, busying himself with the rest of the team's breakfast. 

"I see you two have let yourselves into  _my_ apartment. Again." Nate seemed his normal, grumpy self, but smiled at the hot mug of coffee waiting on the counter. "Eliot, you're forgiven." His shuffling steps trailed away to the worktable where his paper awaited.  

"It's not nothing," Parker whispered. "If something's wrong you gotta tell Nate. The job starts tomorrow."  

Hardison looked his usual  _not_ morning person self as he passed by and grabbed a plate from Eliot. "Thanks, man."  

"The job will be fine, Parker." He followed Hardison over to the work area and took his place at the table. Discussion over.  

. 

. 

. 

"It's not the job I'm worried about, dummy," Parker mumbled as she took her plate to the worktable and sat beside Eliot.  

The space in front of him was devoid of any plate. He sipped on a bottle of water and nothing else.  

Eliot gave her a side eyed look and mouthed  _drop it_.  

She tried to give him her best angry look, but when she felt her lips purse, she knew she came off more as pouting.  

Hardison launched into his final pre-job briefing after Sophie sauntered in amid the click of high heels and swish of expensive fabric.   

Parker half listened to what their hacker was saying since the job was mainly on Eliot's shoulders.  _He_  was the inside man. Her attention was on the hitter.  

The way he rubbed his temples and squinted when everyone's attention was on the screens worried her.  

 _That's it_. Springing from her seat, she turned the overhead light off and closed the blinds.  

"Parker, what are you doing? Leave my blinds alone." Nate frowned at her as she sat down again.  

She shrugged. "There was a glare on the screens." 

Hardison's mouth hung open. He blinked slowly and tilted his head to look at her as if over glasses. "Woman, I put these monitors up myself. They are at the perfect height and alignment to not catch a glare from anything. If you think for one tiny second," he held his thumb and forefinger together as close as possible without touching. "...that your boy didn't do his job correctly. Nay, not his job. His specialty. You've got--" 

Nate waved an impatient hand. "Come on. Spare us the details. You do your job just fine, alright. We need to get through this." 

The hacker's lips pursed in an indignant display of emotion. "Fine. Fine. Far be it from me to defend myself." 

As he continued laying out the plan, Parker's attention drifted back to Eliot. This time, he was staring at her with those cold, blue eyes. The ones he scared so many people with.  

Again, he mouthed  _Drop. It._ He moved closer with each syllable, making her flinch. 

 _Maybe a little too far, Parker._  

"Eliot? Parker? Are you two listening? Hardison has worked very hard on this presentation for us." Nate smirked as he poked fun at the hacker.  

A head shake gave the only indication that Hardison caught the thinly veiled sarcasm from Nate. “If you guys are done.” He met silence from the others and continued. “Husband and wife team of Tim and Nancy Reeves are the owners.” He clicked the remote, bringing up a grid pattern of pictures. “The rest of the staff. Jerry Blackburn, the relief pharmacist. He’s covering for Tim while all the legal nastiness is sorted out.” 

“While we sort it out for them.” Parker grinned.  

“Now, Parker, we’re support this time. Eliot is on the inside,” Sophie said.  

Parker noticed the pointed look the grifter gave Eliot. She wasn’t so far off after all. Sophie noticed something was going on with the man beside her. Feeling proud of herself, she smirked at Eliot.  

Brows drew together in more than just annoyance, but he said nothing. He pointed at the screen instead. “Who’s the cat in the bottom right?”  

Hardison grinned. “Lynn Adams, pharmacy technician. Been there the longest at ten years.” 

“Don’t like him.” Eliot’s gaze remained on Lynn with laser focus.  

Nate sighed. “You don’t know him yet.” 

Eliot shook his head. “Don’t matter. Damn shifty eyes.”  

The team watched him with amused smiles.  

“Shifty eyes aside, store opens at 8:30 in the morning. Spencer, their new temp, will be there bright and early to help out.” Nate watched Eliot with his penetrating gaze. “We good?” 

A silent message passed between mastermind and enforcer. Nate knew better than to call Eliot out directly. 

Eliot’s muscles tensed, the only outward show of emotion. “Yeah. We’re good.” His movements were slower as he stood and picked up his jacket. “I got things to do before tomorrow.”  

.

.

.

The first couple of days at Reeves Pharmacy did not live up to Eliot’s expectations.

At first, he thought this job would be interesting. The majority of his time had been split between scaring away customers that wanted to argue with the technicians and dealing with the less agreeable employees.

Inventory was a nightmare. Things sat in jumbled clumps on the shelves in the pharmacy with no way to see what the store had on hand.

If he had to listen to Lynn complain for much longer he was going to snap and beat him into the ground for fun. That man would complain if he had an all expenses paid vacation to anywhere in the world with millions of dollars of spending money.

"Haven't you put those up yet?" _Speak of the devil._ Eliot turned his back to hide the scowl he felt forming.

"Finishing up right now," he forced past his gritted teeth.

"Well, come on, I'm tired of answering all the phone calls. We're all stretched thin, being shorthanded. Jerry is getting swamped." He slammed the door on his way out of the stockroom.

Jerry Bradburn, the relief pharmacist. At least he was tolerable. Little weird, but that must be a pharmacist thing.

Eliot shoved the box of prescription hardcopies into place on a shelf in the stockroom. "I'd rather be stuck in Lucille listening to Hardison talk about his geeky dwarf thing he plays."

" _I'll have you know it's not a geeky dwarf thing. It's the Tiny Tina DLC for Borderlands. And it's awesome!"_

"Oh, absolutely. Dwarves, and orcs, and..." The dizziness struck hard and Eliot grabbed the shelf for support.

" _And what, Eliot? Huh? Can't argue with how awesome it really is, can you?"_

All Eliot's energy went into trying to will the room to stop its revolutions. " _Eliot? You alright, man? Hey...you there?"_

"Yeah, I'm here. Just...enjoying listening to your voice." He squeezed his eyes closed and waited for the spinning to stop.

" _Haha. Very funny. You found anything yet?"_

"You mean besides Lynn being a self-centered bastard and the inventory being a mess? No." The spinning eased off enough that he headed for the pharmacy.

" _You do realize this isn't a full-time job don't you, Eliot?"_ Nate sounded cheery as always during a job.

"Yes, I understand that. I'm not stupid. You want me to play the part, don't you?"

" _Of course. You know how this works."_ Nate sounded more amused than Eliot felt.

"Fine. So, you let me worry about this part of it. I gotta go scare somebody arguing that his prescription isn't too early to fill."

.

.

.

Finally, the end of the day came, reminding Eliot why he hated a _normal_ job. He was tired and his head hurt, but still had to deal with three people that came in at closing. All of whom, Laura – the clerk down front – told him they knew full well what time the store closed. "Been coming here for twenty years. Store hours haven't changed in all that time. I know for a fact that last one's momma came here before she died. God rest her soul."

Eliot couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as he helped the older lady shut down the store. Small business in small town America. This was the good side of it.

He didn't notice Laura's attention until light fingers touched his arm. "Are you okay, Spencer? You look a little pasty. And that bruise..."

Eliot forced himself to not flinch away as cool fingers brushed the bruise on his forehead. "Yes, ma'am. I'm fine."

" _That’s become your catchphrase recently, man,_ " Hardison teased.

Eliot made himself smile in spite of the annoying hacker in his head. "Just a little headache is all. Nothing major," he added for the benefit of the team.

“Get some sleep tonight. It’ll do wonders for you.”

Eliot smiled his response as he, Laura, and Jerry gathered their things from their lockers and walked to the front door. Jerry set the alarm and exited with them.

“See you guys tomorrow.” Laura said.

“You coming, Spencer?” Jerry asked as he walked toward his car.

“I need to run to next door to the grocery store first. Got a buddy picking me up. Car’s in the shop,” he lied.

“ _A buddy? Aww, man, I knew you cared.”_ Hardison teased.

“Shut up.” Eliot watched Laura and Jerry drive away. “Alright, they’re gone.”

Lucille pulled up beside Eliot and the side door flew open. He climbed in, took a seat, and slammed the door.

“Be careful,” Hardison whined. “Be nice to Lucille.” 

Eliot rolled his eyes inwardly and leaned back in the seat. It felt better than he cared to admit. Nate caught his eye from the driver’s seat, smiled, and threw a tiny nod indicating the seat beside Eliot.

Eliot followed the path of the mastermind’s gaze. A bottle of Tylenol and bottled water sat beside him. He looked back at Nate and raised the bottle of water in a toast.

Hardison and Parker sat in the back of the van whispering about who knows what. Nate drove Lucille to a nearby fast food place to go over strategy.

“Have you seen anything suspicious?” Nate asked.

Eliot shook his head. “Not overtly. It’s more a feeling.”

Parker snorted. “That’s just because you hate Lynn.”

“That’s not the only reason, Parker. He just has such a bad attitude. He’s grumpy all the time. Nothin’ ever makes him happy.”

“Whoever does that sound like?” Hardison grumbled.

Eliot turned to glare at him. The moment their eyes locked, Hardison whistled a tuneless melody and looked anywhere but at Eliot.

Sophie gave him a look of trepidation. “Are we sure we want to do this? I mean, Eliot-“

“M fine, Sophie. Everybody stop worrying about it. The store is closed. I got the code and keys Tim gave me. Get in, look around, get out. No big deal. I got this.”

“Alright, then. Let’s drop you off around back where no one will see you go in.” Nate turned to start the van.

Eliot yanked the door open. “I’ll walk. Don’t need people seeing a van pull around behind a pharmacy. I got this.”

He walked away hoping this would be as easy as he thought. 

.

.

.

Eliot used the key and code the Reeves had given him to investigate unimpeded. The back of the store was quiet as he made his way to the front.

" _Since you've got no choice but to listen to me, are we gonna talk about why you've switched your earbud?_ "

"What the hell are you talking about, Hardison?"

" _Don’t growl at me. Yesterday I asked for your com to make adjustments. You got it out of your left ear. Not your right."_

 _Damn perceptive..._ "And? Is that a crime?"

A chuckle floated across the air. " _No. It's just that you're paranoid. Damn near anal when it comes to jobs. You deviated from the norm._ "

Eliot reached the cabinet where the narcotics and the handwritten log book was stored. "Nate, are you feeding him lines?"

" _Nuh uh, man. Nate is taking a nap while he has a chance. Just you and me, cowboy. Answer._ "

"If you must know," he paused to thumb through the pages of the ledger. "I've got a little _minor_ ringing in my right ear, okay?"

" _More than that if Parker could scare you at breakfast the other morning. Does it have something to do with the dock?"_

Something looked off about the entries in the log book. He had been there when the latest order came in yesterday. An entry showed three bottles received. He knew for a fact five bottles came in on the truck. "That's not right."

" _What is it? You find something?"_

 _"_ Yeah. Maybe. You got eyes in here?" He looked at the camera placement again as if he hadn't already memorized where every camera and blind spot was located.

" _Have I got eyes in there?_ " The hacker was silent; Eliot assumed to come up with some snide remark about his abilities.

Instead of the expected smarminess the hacker said, “ _I got eyes on you. If you need anything…_ ”

Not happy with the implication of the word anything, Eliot couldn’t help the growl. “It’s just some dizziness and ringing, alright?”

“ _You didn’t say anything about dizziness. What if somebody jumps you?_ ”

“It’s a pharmacy. Hardly a place where you have to fight for your life. Regardless of what Lynn says.”

Hardison laughed. “ _He’s a piece of work, huh_?”

“I may beat him on principle alone. Anyway, here are the figures that are off.”  He snapped a few quick pictures of the altered records and sent them to the hacker. “There are doctored entries all over this thing.”

“ _That’s good work, Eliot. What made you think of that?_ ”

Eliot smiled to himself and stayed silent; just to bother Hardison.

“ _Tell me you didn’t used to rob pharmacies. Did you? Eliot?”_

He guessed it could have been his concentration on the log book--or maybe Hardison’s yammering in his good ear—for whatever reason, he didn’t hear anyone else in the building with him and the hacker’s warning came too late.

“ _Eliot, behind you!_ ”

Something hard slammed Eliot across the right side of his face. He crashed to the floor in a heap. Hardison sounded distant compared to the sudden ringing that dulled all other sound.

The sight of Lynn swam in his vision. Standing over him holding the dust mop. “I knew you were trouble. Reeves tried to tell us you were extra help until all this was cleared up. We've seen you snooping around. Saw the black van pick you up after closing. Watched you walk back."

Wheels turned slowly in Eliot's mind. _We? Who's we?_ Instead he growled, "You don't know how fucking relieved I am that you did that," as he climbed to his feet.

" _Me too. Now you can work out some of that grumpiness."_

Eliot allowed the smile to spread across his face even as the blood began to trickle from his forehead again. Hadn't healed up from the hood surfing at the docks yet. That didn't bother him. It often worked to his advantage when he wanted to psych out his opponents.

It worked this time too as Lynn took a step backwards, clutching his dust mop. "What's wrong with you? Are you _crazy_?"

"After working with you for nearly a week? Almost." He charged forward, tackled Lynn and drove him to the ground. "You've been behind this all along."

Lynn recovered quickly and swung the mop handle at Eliot's head again.

The handle glanced off his shoulder thanks to a quick dodge to the left. _Dammit._ The sudden movement made the room spin, giving Lynn the chance to use Eliot's momentum to flip him onto his back.

Fists rained down on Eliot as the mop handle clattered to the floor. "Been walking around here all week acting like the store's savior. Who's tough now, huh?"

Eliot told himself that he let Lynn hit him. He would worry later about whether it was really the vertigo. After they got what was needed to clear the store owners.

Lynn must have gotten tired of treating his head like a boxer’s speed bag because vise-like hands wrapped around his throat and squeezed.

Eliot choked and curled his fingers around Lynn’s forearms, tried to pry his hands away.

“ _Eliot, you with me? Throw him off, man. He’s no match for you._ ”

Eliot would have groaned if he could get enough air. He could only manage halting breaths. Throwing Lynn off too soon would lose him the chance to see who else was behind this. “Can’t…yet,” he ground out.

“What are you talking about?” Lynn’s grip faltered slightly.

“Come on. The cameras are taken care of. We’ve got the last of the bottles.” Jerry Blackburn walked behind the technician and stared at Eliot over Lynn’s shoulder.

The technician looked over his shoulder at Jerry. “You sure? We gonna leave him here?”

“Finish him off. We’ll be long gone by the time the police investigate the break-in. They find him here, figure maybe he and his partner had an argument.”

“ _Eliot, we got it. You have to fight back,_ ” Nate’s voice was strained. “ _Eliot, now!_ ”

Eliot’s vision turned dim around the edges. _Not a second too soon. Got what we need._ He shifted his hips and dumped his attacker on the floor.

He struggled to his feet and rubbed his sore throat. His laugh sounded rough to his ears as he faced Jerry and Lynn. “I appreciate that. I’ve been in a mood for a week. And nobody to take it out on.”

Lynn climbed to his feet and stood beside Jerry. “I’m going to kill him.” The technician took a step toward Eliot.

Jerry held an arm out to stop him. “You couldn’t before.” He pulled a gun from his waistband and pointed it at Eliot. “Such a shame the guy Tim got to help us out got caught trying to rob the store. I had to shoot him. Attacked my friend here. It was for defense.” His cold smile chilled Eliot to the bone.

He licked at his split lip and shifted his attention between Lynn and Jerry. He blinked, tried to slow the tilt of the room. “Make it count.”

He charged.

Lynn was first. A fistful of collar provided the pull he needed to slam the jerk into the shelves. Bottles clattered to the floor around the man’s prone figure.

Jerry stood frozen. The terrified look on his face faded into one of rage. The gun swung toward Eliot’s chest.

 _Disarm him quick. Get the job done._ He’d done it a thousand times. Rush him, twist the gun out of his grasp. Quick, clean, effective.

The steps played through his mind like a movie he’d seen over and over. The gun went off as Eliot twisted it. Instead of his chest, the bullet slammed into his shoulder.

Too jacked up on adrenaline to let it slow him down, he took the gun, slammed Jerry across the face with it, and ejected the clip.

He teetered toward the counter. The edge dug painfully into his back.

“ _Eliot! Man, you alright? You got shot._ ” The disbelief in the hacker’s voice made it seem more a question than a statement.

“Yeah. That happens with guns sometimes. Where are you guys? I’m kinda bleeding here.”

“ _Behind the store now. Get out of there. We got what we came for._ ” The authority in Nate’s voice almost disguised his concern. Almost.

Eliot pushed away from the counter and headed for the back. Lucille waited when he pushed open the backdoor. So did the team; outside the van. _Forget a quick getaway I guess._

.

.

.

"I'm fine," Eliot mumbled. 

 _That’s doubtful._ Nate hadn’t had time to ask the question. "You don't  _look_  fine." 

The hitter pushed past him and stumbled for Lucille. "Then stop looking." 

 _Uh oh. Growling Eliot._ Nate followed behind him and chose to stay quiet. Best to let the other man go until he either came to them for help, or physically couldn't go anymore.  

Sophie's face softened the moment Eliot came into view. The hitter ignored her and climbed into the van.  

Nate shook his head as Sophie gave him  _that_ look. "Leave it alone, Soph." 

"Leave it alone? Did you even  _see_ him? He hasn't looked good since the job with Penzer Auto. And now he’s been _shot_." 

"You know confronting him won't do us any good. He'll just withdraw, and we won't accomplish anything." He jammed his hands in the pockets of his overcoat. "That is if we're lucky. If he doesn't withdraw, he could go on a tirade. Do you really want another one of those? Hardison wouldn't speak to him for a week after he...murdered his babies."  

Said babies were tracking devices and mini-cams that the hacker had put in place to spy on Eliot when a previous job left him in less than optimal condition.  

He turned his back to the van to keep his voice from carrying. "Best plan of action is to let him carry on as usual. He'll-" 

"Don't give me that  _he'll let us know_ crap, Nate. He won't let us know. Because he has this silly notion that we can't ever see that he's anything as mundane as human." Her dark eyes met his and he could see just how much trouble he was in.  

"I'm doing the best I can. He isn't a child. I can't make him let me take care of him. All I can do is what we always do. Trust him." He shrugged and headed for Lucille, trying not to think about the tangible pain in his back from her stare.  

. 

. 

. 

 Sophie took a seat close enough to Eliot. She was _not_ hovering. She just…damn _._ Hovered. He looked exhausted though. How could she ignore that?

Nate mercifully took the driver’s seat. Eliot didn’t need to endure another car ride with Parker driving.

“I could have worked in the pharmacy,” Parker’s voice held an uncharacteristic whine.

"Maybe Nate didn't want you to stab someone with the counting spatula," Hardison muttered. The smile on his face betrayed any fake annoyance. He loved Parker’s unpredictability and it showed.

Mischief lit Parker’s eyes. “I’ve never done that.”

“Oh, hell. Now she’s thinkin’ about it, man! See what you did?” Eliot’s voice sounded strained. 

Sophie watched Eliot as he held his left arm closer to his body. Right hand holding the elbow of his bad arm, trying to take pressure off the shoulder.

Hardison turned his attention back to whatever gadget he was working on now. "What? You know she would have thought about it anyway.”

Parker’s giggle provided inappropriate background music to the scene Sophie watched. Eliot didn’t provide his usual growling retort. He slipped in the seat; his head thumping against the side of the van. The tension left his muscles and his right hand fell to his thigh.

“Eliot?” She tapped his cheek with her fingertips. “Can you hear me?”

Nate alternated between watching the road and looking in the back of the vehicle. “What’s happening? Talk to me, people.”

Hardison joined Sophie in trying to wake their hitter. “C’mon, man. You’re scaring the shit outta everybody. Wake up!”

Sophie cupped Eliot’s face in her hands, studied his face. No movement, no flutter of eyelids. “Nate, do something!”

The van skidded to a halt on the shoulder of the road. The mastermind got out and ran to the side door and climbed in.

Sophie moved out of his way. Nate would know what to do. He always knew. She didn’t think that would include the slap to Eliot’s cheek.

“Damn it. Wake up, Eliot. Don’t make me.” The injured man didn’t respond, causing Nate to shove his fingers through his hair roughly. “Fine. This is your fault.”

The team watched as Nate pulled out his phone. He dialed, pressed the phone to his ear.

His free hand rested on Eliot’s uninjured shoulder. Nate didn’t have to wait long. “It’s me. Yes. He’s been shot.” A flinch passed across his face as he pulled the phone from his ear. “He’s alive. We should be at your office in…” Light flashed off his watch as he flicked his wrist. “Fifteen minutes.”

Phone pocketed, he handed Hardison a spare shirt they kept for disguises. “Press this against the wound. He’ll be fine.”

Nate got out and reclaimed the driver’s side.

Relief spread through her as Sophie realized what Nate had done. The young hacker looked shell shocked. He needed something to do. A task.

If anyone expected the hacker to be squeamish, they would be sorely disappointed. He took the seat beside Eliot and sat him up straighter with a gentle tug. Soothing hands pressed the shirt against the hitter’s bleeding shoulder. “I got ya. Don’t worry, man. We’re all good.”

Sophie met Nate’s eyes in the rearview mirror and gave a slight nod of approval. She looked back at the hacker, Eliot was leaning against Hardison’s side now. Whether by accident or design, she couldn’t be sure.

.

.

.

Nate watched Dr. Pratt as she worked. Eliot regained consciousness for a brief five minutes in Lucille before passing out again.

In that short amount of time he grumbled and cussed about being fine and “stop treating me like an invalid.”

Everyone – including Parker – had the good sense to not point out he still leaned against Hardison’s side. Even after muttering something about touchy, feely idiots. A glance in the rearview offered a view of the hitter’s head resting on Hardison’s shoulder. _So much for the I’m fine_ _argument._ Luckily for them, Eliot stayed out long enough to get him to Dr. Pratt’s office.

“I don’t believe there’s any significant damage along the wound track.” Dr. Pratt – _Beth_ – said.  “He’s a damned lucky guy.”

“If you call the life of a hitter lucky.”

“The things he’s gone through?” She held his gaze “He’s fortunate to be alive. I’ve seen things that should have killed him. This…blood vessels could have been involved. He could have bled to death.”

Nate looked at their protector. They could have lost him today. Seeing Eliot that still and pale made the possibility more real.

“You realize he can’t keep going this way?” she said, gaze cold enough to chill the room.

“I can’t make him tell me everything.”

She crossed her arms and hugged her torso. “No. But you can make it feel like an acceptable thing to do.”

Stunned into silence, he nodded in agreement.

Lips drawn to a tight line relaxed into an uneasy smile. The tension in her arms eased. “He’s going to fight it, but he’s going to need help while he heals.”

An escaping sigh betrayed Nate’s attempt at calm. “Take care of a healing Eliot? We take down huge corporations on day off. No problem.”

A quick glance at the injured man revealed the pain killers succeeded at keeping him still. She patted his good shoulder and said, “Sure. Piece of cake.”

.

.

.

Two days had passed and Eliot was not happy about staying at Nate's apartment.

Eliot scowled as he watched the team flit around the room. He reminded Sophie of a tiger, ready to pounce, but fighting its instincts.

Hardison fussed almost more than she did herself. That spoke volumes about how scared the young man had been. She felt the skin at her eyes crinkle as she smiled at the two. _A real smile, then._ Once a grifter, always a grifter.

“Dammit, I said I’m fine. I don’t need…”

The blanket Hardison tossed over his lap hit him in the face. “The doc gave us orders.”

Nate visibly cringed as Sophie internally winced.

The scowl deepened into a patented Eliot glare. “Yeah, that. _Why_ did you call Beth?”

The hacker’s facial expression screamed _duh._ “Shot, concussion, hearing issues. Yeah, why the hell would we call a doctor?”

“I was fine,” Eliot mumbled.

“No, you weren’t.” Nate handed him three tablets. “You were hurt to begin with. Then you decided to stop a bullet with your shoulder.”

" _I_ didn't decide anything. Jerry made the decision to shoot me." He rolled the tablets over in his hand, made a face. "What are these?"

Nate pointed out the two larger tablets. "These two are antibiotics. Other one is a painkiller."

Eliot's eyes flew to Nate's face. " _Painkiller_? I don't need a painkiller. The antibiotics are fine. Not taking the painkiller."

"Eliot, we know you're in pain. The doctor said these are mild." Sophie hoped to ease the hitter's mind. He had complained about the foggy feeling pain medication caused before.

"Beth said they were mild? Could go one of two ways. They really are mild and she took my concerns into consideration."

Hardison tucked the blanket around Eliot. "What's the second way?"

Eliot growled and batted the hacker's hands away. "Or, they could be so strong they knock me out and I sleep forever."

"Would it be so bad to sleep? I think rest would be good for you." Hardison resumed tucking the blanket around Eliot's torso.

Sophie stifled a laugh at the defeated look on Eliot's face. He realized fighting the blanket was a lost cause.

Nate shoved a glass of water into the hitter's hand. "Take them all. Now."

Eliot's eyes went wide, then narrowed in annoyance. "I..."

"Now, Eliot. No discussion." Nate wasn't going to relent.

"Fine. Fine. I'll take the damned things. If I go to sleep for hours and you need me...don't come cryin' to me." The pills disappeared into his mouth and got washed down with the water.

Hardison leaned closer. "Huh uh. Open up. Let us see."

Eliot drew his right fist back. "Hardison, so help me-"

The hacker's hands shot into the air in surrender. "Hey! No violence. It's up to you. You wanna hide them in your cheek just to spit out later? Nothing to me. You can just be in excruciating pain and let your arm rot off."

"For the love...see?" Eliot opened his mouth wide, stuck out his tongue, then lifted it so Hardison could see underneath it. "See? No pills. All gone. Happy?"

The younger man smiled and patted Eliot's knee. "Very. I'm going to warm you some soup."

Eliot pinned Nate with a desperate look. "Nate, stop him. I can't eat anymore fucking soup. He's been wanting to turn the heat up. Trying to put me to bed at 8:30. First off, I don't _need_ to be put to bed."

The mastermind didn't try to hide his amusement at the hitter's plight. "I don't know Mr. 90 Minutes a Day. That might be good for you."

Any retort Eliot may have had got cut off by Parker at the door. "Eliot! I'm coming into the apartment. Do not be alarmed." Her head appeared around the open door.

Eliot groaned when she plopped on the couch beside him. "Oh my god, Parker."

"What? I scared you that one time at breakfast. I wanted to be sure you knew I was coming in. Since you're hearing is bad now."

Fingernails dug into the blanket. "Going to get a checkup. Ringing already getting better," he grumbled through gritted teeth.

Sounds came from the kitchen like from a construction zone. There was a reason Eliot did the cooking.

Parker leaned back into a slouching position. _Uh oh. Settling in for the long haul._

The thief turned to face him with a look of seriousness. “You gonna get a hearing aid at your follow up?”

Sophie and Nate saw the look on Eliot's face and called at the same time, “Parker!”

“What? I just need to know if I need to keep being loud around Eliot.” She leaned close to his left ear. “Just let me know if I need to speak up.”

Eliot jerked away from her. “Parker! Shut up!”

By the time the hacker came back with the soup, Eliot had struggled off the couch.

"Eliot, where you going? I got your soup. You should be resting."

Eliot glanced over his shoulder. "If you don't leave me alone, I'm going to throw you off the roof."

"Not while your shoulder is like that." Hardison followed him up the stairs with the soup.

Sophie shook her head. Two days down. Weeks – if not months – to go. She felt sure they would still be a family.

She just wasn't sure if Hardison would have taken an unplanned flight by then.


End file.
